Double Identity
by Crash
Summary: A chance meeting with a veteran fighter gives Videl an unexpected lead in her search for answers. But one question still remains: If Gohan is really the Gold Fighter, then who is really Saiyaman?
1. Woke up this monrinin'

Disclaimer:  I do not own DBZ, nor would I presume to do anything to make a profit from its concepts and likenesses.  This is simply a fanfic, and you know it.

Notes:  Consider this an alternate ending to the Saiyaman saga…

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Tuesday, in a juice bar in Railport…

Videl sat alone in a window-booth and tried to sort out the rather chaotic events of the past hour.  She was in Railport, thus missing a day of school and leaving her town to that nutcase Saiyaman, because of her father.  Hercule was having another one of his publicity events, and had dragged her along with him.  He had said it was because the event was for some charity that helped troubled teens, or something like that.  Videl hadn't listened to hard.  She rarely did.

Her role in the affair had taken place in the morning.  Once she had played her part, Videl had taken off.  Her father, of course, had stayed, planning to milk the event for all it was worth.  As far as Videl knew, he was still at the event now.  Since there hadn't been much point in rushing back to Satan City for the last bit of school, Videl decided to kill the rest of the day just wandering around town.

The excitement started when Videl was walking past a bank.  As she approached, a black van with tinted windows pulled up to the curve, and six people in masks rushed out of the van and into the bank.  Videl's instincts immediately kicked in, and she sprinted down the block to intervene.

The scene when she arrived was pretty much as she had pictured it.  Four goons were standing around banishing assault rifles, and two others were at the counter threatening the tellers with pistols.  The tellers were cooperating as best they could, while the rest of the bank patrons were huddled on the ground or were being herded into the corners.

Videl jumped in before the bank robbers had even registered her presence.  Crashing through the plate-glass storefront window, she took out the first gunman with a flying sidekick.  The other gunmen immediately focused on her, while the civilians ducked down and hoped for the best.  Videl knocked down anther gunman by throwing the downed goon's assault rifle at him, and immediately ran headlong towards the next target.  All total, the fight wouldn't have lasted more than a minute if one of the bank robbers hadn't turned out to be a martial artist himself.  Not a terribly good one, but one with enough skill to keep Videl momentarily at bay.

It was while fighting the last robber that things went from exciting to just bizarre.  Most of the civilians had gotten as far from the action as they could during the fight.  But not all of them.  One of them was leaning against the bank's ATM, and watching the fight up close.  And, to Videl's infuriation, he was actually calling out advice to her!  The advice actually prolonged the fight, galling Videl so much that she lost her focus and kept missing the robber.

Then one of the other gunmen woke up.  Before anyone realized it, he was up, and had his assault rifle locked and loaded.

With his fellow robber laughing, the gunman opened fire.

Videl dove to the ground.

The stranger by the ATM took four to the chest.

Rather than pulling the usual routine of falling to the floor and dying, the stranger got mad.  Videl never saw him pull out a weapon, but one second later the gunman was blasted out the storefront glass and onto the sidewalk.  The fighting robber gaped for a second before he too was knocked into a cinderblock wall.  With all robbers unconscious on the ground, Videl slowly got back to her feet.  Police sirens were already audible in the distance.

Videl had tried to talk to the stranger, but the police arrived too soon.  That irony only added to Videl's growing sense of unease.  The police questioned Videl about the incident for the better part of the hour.  The press also showed up, getting a few shots of the scene, and of her.  In the back of her mind, Videl wondered if her little altercation would upstage her father's event, or if he would manage to link the two together for his own benefit.  Thinking about that kept her entertained during the police's mundane questioning, but did nothing to improve her mood.

By the time the police were done with Videl, the stranger was gone.  She glanced around for some sign of him for a moment, but then dejectedly moved on.  Videl was so preoccupied that she almost missed him when he tried talking with her half a block later.  Ignoring her immediate flood of questions, he said that he was thirsty, and wondered if he would join him for a slush or something.

Which brought Videl back to the window booth, trying in vain to make sense out of the day's events.

"Ah," greeted the stranger as he walked up to the booth.  "Nothing like flavored ice on a fall afternoon…  Wouldn't you say?"  The stranger slid a cup over to Videl and took a seat opposite her.  "And keep in mind," he said with a grin.  "You're not even paying for it."

 "Yeah, sure." Videl glanced at the cup, then over at the stranger.  "Thanks," she added.  "But just…  Who _are_ you?!"

The stranger grinned, genuinely amused.  "You really don't know?  Well…"  The man pulled down the bill of his baseball cap and tapped it a couple times.  "This narrow the field down, any?"

Videl glanced at the cap's insignia, and exhaled in annoyance.  "I don't follow sports, much."

The figure raised his eyes.  "Really?  Well, you looked athletic enough…"

"Well, mostly, I just do fighting."

"Good to hear!"  The stranger beamed.  Before Videl realized it, he was shaking her hand.  "The name's Yamcha.  Semi-finalist in Tenaichi Bodukais Twenty-one, Twenty-two, and Twenty-three."

Videl's eyes slowly widened as she finally placed the man's face.  "…And the Cell Games," she quietly observed.

Yamcha winced and pulled back to his seat.  "Yeah, and that," he muttered.  "Guess you follow fighting a little too well."

"You were really there?  With my father?"  Asked Videl.  Despite the earlier strangeness of the day, suddenly finding herself in the presence of a Cell Game veteran, someone who was in the same league as her father, left her a little awe-struck.

"Yeah, I was really there…"  Answered Yamcha, with a slight twinge to his voice.  But with his curiosity piqued, his good humor quickly returned.  "But I'm…  Not quite sure…"

"I'm Videl," Videl answered a little too quickly.  "My father was Hercule."

Yamcha's mouth pulled to the side in a sort of amused scowl.  "Ah, yeah.  Him…"  Yamcha looked Videl over for a moment.  "I guess I can see the resemblance.  You have his…  Impetuousness.  Very nice work at the bank, back there," finished Yamcha, trying to change the subject.

The compliment went ignored by Videl, who seemed suddenly preoccupied with her drink.  "Um, sir," she began.  "My father told me a lot about that fight.  But never…"  Videl looked up.  "He never told me _how_ he actually won?  If you…  Since you were there, did you see how he did?  Will you please tell me?"

Yamcha rolled his eyes.  "It was a sucker punch," he replied with practiced confidence.  "He worked it out with that Delivery Boy so that the kid would keep Cell occupied while your father would gather his strength for his special attack punch.  It was some special punch that took a long time to prepare," finished Yamcha, smiling in an attempt to keep a straight face.  "It's his 'special' move…"

"Oh…"  Videl stared longingly out the window for a moment.  Blinking rapidly, she abruptly regained her composure and turned back towards Yamcha.  "What are you doing in Railport?"  She asked of the fighter.

Glad the topic had moved on, Yamcha tapped the bill of his hat and smiled.  "I've got a game tonight.  What are _you_ doing in Railport?"

"My father brought me up for the day," Videl replied.

Yamcha chuckled.  "So you didn't come just to stop the bank robbery?"

Videl abruptly scowled.  "Speaking of the bank robbery, you were there too.  Why didn't you do something to stop them?!"

"Well…"  Yamcha leaned back in his seat and smirked.  "When the cops look it over, I'm sure they'll find the tires on the getaway car are quite flat.  Had it actually tried to get away, it probably would have experienced some…  Other difficulties as well."

"And if they had shot someone before they left?"

"No one would have been hurt."

Suddenly remembering just what had happened to Yamcha back at the bank, Videl stared at his chest.  A buttoned up jacket covered where the bullets had struck.  Videl glanced up at Yamcha's eyes.  "My father…"  She stuttered after a moment.  "He said that at the Cell Games, you and some others used some kind of…  Tricks?"

Yamcha chuckled in understanding.  "Let me tell you something about tricks," he said in a conspiratorial tone as he leaned forward.  "After I stopped living in the desert, one of the first things my friends took me to was a baseball game.  In that game, you have a pitcher, who throws a ball past the batter to the catcher.  He does that by throwing the ball really fast, or by throwing the ball where the batter doesn't expect it, or…"  Yamcha trailed off for emphasis.  "By having it curve in mid air.  The pitcher can literally make the ball change direction during the pitch.  Now that, Videl, is quite a trick."

"No it isn't," Videl contradicted, annoyed with the fighter for changing the subject.  "It's basic physics.  Pitchers put a spin on the ball, which makes one side of the ball move faster through the air than the other side.  That causes unequal drag, which pushes the ball off to the side.  They use that as an example in textbooks all the time."

"So you say," continued Yamcha.  "But until you know that…  Until you look it up in some textbook or hear it explained by some professional…"  Yamcha took off his hat, and held it in his hand.  The hat began to glow, and then a small sphere of energy appeared around it.  Videl gasped as the hat blackened, and then disintegrated altogether.  Yamcha smiled as he dissipated the energy sphere.  "…In the eye of the beholder, it remains a trick."

Videl stared wide-eyed at the space where the hat had been.  "Why hasn't my father shown me that?"  She said after a moment of stunned silence.

Yamcha bit his lip.  "Uh…  Well, he probably…  Didn't want you to try to do things like that on your own.  It can be pretty dangerous," truthfully finished Yamcha.

Videl grinned to herself.  "Dad was right," she said.  "I would have tried to do it myself.  But…  If I already know about it, maybe he'll—"

"Teach you?"  Hurriedly finished Yamcha.  "Um…  He might not want to do that.  I mean…"  Again, Yamcha bit his lip.  "He might not feel comfortable teaching that to his own daughter.  It really can be dangerous.  I'm sure your father wouldn't want to help you do something that will get you hurt."

"You're right," mused Videl as she thoughtfully rubbed her chin.

Yamcha exhaled, confidant he had diffused the situation.

Videl abruptly perked up.  "Could you teach me?"

Caught off guard, Yamcha froze for a second.  Slowly, he met Videl's gaze, looked her over, then met her gaze again.  "No."

"Why not?"  Videl asked as her brow furrowed.

Yamcha closed his eyes.  "How to put this delicately…"  Yamcha rubbed his forehead for a moment before meeting Videl's gaze again.  "Because…  It wouldn't work out."

Videl crossed her arms, silently demanding a more thorough explanation.

"Look, you can't be any older than sixteen," observed Yamcha.  Videl opened her mouth in indignation, but Yamcha continued before she could contradict him.  "When I say I'm twenty-nine, it's considered a pretty good joke."

"I'm asking you to train me," Videl angrily clarified.  "Not to go steady."

"I know," countered Yamcha.  "But I'm too old to see you in a sweaty gi and sports bra for _any reason."_

Videl raised an eyebrow.  "I look that good, or you're that much of a lecher?"

"Don't sell yourself short," argued Yamcha, ticking off one item on his finger.  "And I'd rather not find out," he ticked off on the other.  "Besides, I have friends who would readily believe it, anyway."

"Really?"  Videl prompted.

"I've met some bad influences."

Videl smirked.  "Well, I'm sure you're mature enough to ignore those influences.  And I will be the first to let you know when you're not."

This time it was Yamcha who raised his eyebrow.  "Don't be too sure of that.  You wouldn't believe the differences I've seen girls disregard, just because the guy had a pretty face."

Videl scowled at the insinuation.  "Your face isn't _that_ pretty."

A good-humored smirk came across Yamcha's face.  "Sure, but it's not the best thing I have going for me, anyway…"  Yamcha laughed as Videl's scowl deepened.  "Seriously, though," continued Yamcha.  "Me taking on a student like you would just be a bad idea."

Videl sighed in irritation.  "Well, is there anyone else who _would_ train me?  Another fighter from the Cell games?  I've already learned the basics!  You saw me…"

"Oh, you're fighter material," Yamcha said as he slowly nodded.  "If you can stick it out.  It can get as depressing as it is dangerous…"

"It's in my blood!"  Answered Videl.  "I'll do what it takes.  Just give me someone to show me how.  Whoever taught you, even…"

"That would be the bad influence I was telling you about," warned Yamcha.  "You don't want to learn from him."

"Who then?"

Yamcha began thinking out loud and ticking off people on his fingers.  "Well, Roshi is out.  Vegeta is definitely out.  Piccolo…  Probably wouldn't take a student.  Eighteen wouldn't bother.  Krillin has a family now.  Gohan's mom wouldn't let—"

Videl instantly snapped to attention.  "_Gohan?!"_

Yamcha looked up.  "Yeah.  Oh, uh, he was the Delivery Boy in the Cell Games.  The guy who was fighting Cell until your dad, uh…"  Yamcha covered his mouth and coughed.  "Sucker punched him."

"Gohan fought in the Cell Games?"  Videl mouthed to herself.  Anxiously she looked back at Yamcha, and continued out loud.  "Where is he now?"

Not quite understanding Videl's sudden interest, Yamcha shrugged.  "Still living with his mom at Mount Paozu, I suppose.  He can't train you, though.  His mom home-schools him, and she's pretty strict about what he can or can't do."

Videl stared blankly past Yamcha for a moment.  "Those four fighters with the spiky gold hair," she prompted as she looked back at Yamcha.  "Did you know all of them?"

"Oh, yeah," Yamcha replied.  "Gohan, Goku, Vegeta, and Trunks.  Why?"

Thinking hard, Videl started drumming her fingers along her cheek.  "Well, a few weeks ago, a Golden Fighter appeared in Satan City, and…"  Videl trailed off, calculating her next statement.  "You were talking about the Cell Games, and I just remembered that the fighter looked a lot one of those four.  Could it have been one of them?"

"I guess it's possible,"  Yamcha answered.  "None of them have much to do with Satan City that I know of, but I suppose one of them could have just been passing through at the time.  What did he do to make people notice him, anyway?"

"Stopped a bank robbery."

"There you go!"  Declared Yamcha, grinning.  "A fellow traveler like us."  Yamcha raised his slush in a mock toast.  "So did he look normal, or was he really short with a huge yellow crest?"

"Normal looking," Videl clarified.

Yamcha smirked.  "That'd be Gohan, all right.  Probably running an errand for his mom, or something…  Wonder if he knows he's famous in Satan City?"

Videl quickly shook her head to cover her grin.  "Well, never mind him," she said.  "He only showed up once anyway.  But this other guy…"  Videl trailed off, looking seriously at Yamcha.  "He's calling himself 'The Great Saiyaman,' and he's been running around my city for weeks now.  He's also been doing the same kind of things you and your friends can.  Do you know who _he is?"_

"The Great Saiyaman?"  Balked Yamcha.  "You're kidding, right?  I thought that was part of one of those joke TV shows."

"Oh, he's real enough," replied Videl, completely understanding the reaction.

"Dance moves and all?"

Videl nodded.  "Dance moves and all."

Yamcha shook his head slowly.  "I've got _no idea who that is.  I don't think anyone I know could be that…  Ridiculous."_

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Drat," Videl muttered.  She quickly shook her head and dropped the topic.  "Well, back to your friends, was there anyone of them who actually would try to train me?"

Yamcha eyed the window for a moment.  "Well, your two best bets are Krillin and Tien.  The thing with Krillin is that he has a family now.  I'm not sure how much time he'd be willing to devote to a student."  Yamcha paused for a moment.  "And he lives on the same island as Roshi, so you'd still have him to worry about."  Yamcha paused again while changing subjects.  "Now Tien is still serious about fighting.  Plus, he's in the position of being the last real member of the Crane School.  So he _might_ be interested in taking on a student.  Still, he's kind of a loner, and I've got no idea on how to get a hold of him…"

"Huh," said Videl, feigning interest.  "Well, it could still be worth trying to talk to…  Krillin, is it?  And you do know where he is?"

"I'll give you his number."  Yamcha said as he snatched a napkin and a pen out of his pocket.  "And just tell him that Yamcha recommended him.

An all too sincere smile came over Videl's face.  "Thanks."

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Continued…


	2. Safe home

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Wednesday afternoon, in the halls of Orange Star High School…

With the last class of the day over, Gohan hurried through the hallways as fast as school rules allowed.  It was turning out to be a hectic week, as he had just received his third assignment that was due the coming Friday.  Since he had blown the first two weeknights reading the new issues the science and history magazines his mother had given him, he now had only two nights to finish all three essays.  It wasn't impossible, though.  It would take some careful time management, and couple intense writing sessions, but he could easily finish all three by Friday, and maybe even with enough time to let his mother proof read them before he turned them in.  Fortunately, Gohan was nothing if not a dedicated student.

Gohan was still planning out his timetable when he suddenly noticed that the floor seemed unnaturally tilted.  A second later, he landed face-first on the tile.  Gohan blinked in confusion.

Leaning against a locker, and with her foot casually extended into the hallway, Videl stared blankly at Gohan.  She held her pose for a moment, waiting for Gohan to make some kind of reaction.  The fallen boy blinked again, then pushed himself to his knees and rubbed his head in curiosity.

"Wow," Videl blandly observed.  

Hurt only in spirit, Gohan re-shouldered his backpack and stood back up.  "Videl," he whined.  "What did you do that for?"

"Gohan," prompted Videl, still leaning against the lockers.  "How did you _ever _survive this long?"

"Well, I didn't meet you until I came here," the boy sullenly replied.  "Why did you do that?"

Videl shifted her weight and stepped away from the lockers.  "Gohan," she began in a grave tone, "we should talk."

Immediately sensing that something was wrong, Gohan pursed his lips to the side.  "Um…  Now?"

"Yes," Videl continued.  "Now."

"About?"

Videl poked her finger into Gohan's chest.  "About something you've been hiding from me, Gohan.  Something very important to both of us, that we should really be talking about."

Glancing around to see if anyone else was nearby, Gohan took a nervous step back.  "Ah, Videl, I really don't think that the kind of boxers I wear is anything that we really need to—"

"Oh, it _is_ important," countered Videl, matching Gohan's step.  The boy weakly tried a half-turn away, but quickly found himself cornered against the lockers.  "But I'm _not talking about what you're wearing.  I'm talking about something you __did."_

Laughing weakly, Gohan began sweating.  "Oh, uh…  So…"

The shorter girl braced one arm against the locker, causing Gohan to shy away from her.  "Gohan, I talked to Yamcha.  I know your secret.  We need to talk about this.  Either now, or—"

Gohan's nerve failed him and he bolted down the hall.  "Sorry, Videl," he called back.  "But I just remembered-my-mom-needed-me-home-right-away-talk-to-you-tommorrow-bye!"  The fleeing boy shoved his way through a pack of loitering students and burst out the door.

As soon as she realized what was happening, Videl sprinted down the hall after him.  Skidding to a stop on the lawn outside, she frantically looked around for some sign of Gohan.  Seeing none, she sighed and straightened her stance.  "Well," she muttered to herself.  "At least I know Yamcha was right…"

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The Son household, below Mount Paozu…

With his tongue poking his cheek in concentration, Goten carefully selected a marker from the box in front of him and began scribbling on a page of his coloring book.  Behind him, ChiChi stood before the kitchen counter, slicing some vegetables for the night's dinner.  Save for the drawings Goten had spread out set on the table, and sack of fresh fruit next to the sink, the room was spotless.  As she worked, ChiChi hummed happily to herself.

Abruptly, Goten paused and sat up.  "Gohan's home," he observed.

"Gohan _is_ home," ChiChi absently corrected.

The living room door slammed shut, and fast-paced footsteps thudded through the house.

"How was your day at school, Honey?"  Called out ChiChi.

"_Horrible!"  Gohan wailed from somewhere in the hall.  "My teachers are giving me too much to do and my friends are talking about me behind my back and Videl says she knows my big secret and my whole life is _ruined_!"  The tirade abruptly ended as Gohan retreated to his room and slammed the door shut._

"That's nice," ChiChi chimed, slightly louder as to be heard through the door.  "Dinner will be a roast, tonight."  ChiChi casually grabbed another handful of vegetables and resumed humming.

Looking blankly at the hallway that led to Gohan's room, Goten scratched his head.  "Mommy?"  He asked.  "Is there something wrong with Gohan."

"No, Goten," ChiChi answered.  "He's just being a teenager."

"Ooooh."  Goten nodded in satisfaction, and returned to scribbling in his book.  After a moment, he put down his marker.  He looked back down the hall, then over to ChiChi.  "Mommy, I don't ever wanna be a teenager."

"I don't want you to either, Sweetie."

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Steamer Stadium, Railport…

In preparation for game three of their series, the Titans and the Railroaders were spread out across the field, engaging in various pre-game activities.  Most were on the field proper, doing stretches or throwing practice pitches, but a sizable number of them were standing along the dugouts mingling with the fans.  There was another crowd of fans bunched up near the left field foul line, where Yamcha was fencing with some imaginary opponent with a baseball bat.

Midway through a parry-high kick-round the world swipe-combo that would have left his attacker with a new haircut and flat on his back, Yamcha's cell phone rang.  The ex-fighter turned the round the spinning swipe into an almost elegant pirouette, and tossed the bat to the fans as a souvenir.  Tapping the brim of his new hat in a salute to them, he casually walked over to his duffel bag.

"'Ello?"  He greeted as a flipped open the phone.

"_How could you do that to me?!"  Screamed Gohan from half a continent away._

Yamcha flinched and pulled the phone a few inches from his ear.  "Uh…  Gohan?"

"How could you tell all that to Videl?!"  Gohan again demanded.

"Wait," prompted Yamcha, quizzically.  "You know Videl?

"Of course I know Videl!"

Yamcha blinked.  "How?"

"We go to school together!"  Screamed Gohan, exasperated and angry.  "She sits right next to me!"

"You _go _to school?"  Questioned Yamcha.  "Since when?  I never heard anything about—"

Still hysterical, Gohan cut Yamcha off.  "So you just tell complete strangers about me?!  How could you do that?  I thought we were friends!"

"Look, I—"  Yamcha broke off, scowling.  "It just came up!  We were talking about the Cell Games and I just mentioned you were there."

"_You told her I beat Cell?!"_

Yamcha flinched away again.  "No," he tried to clarify.  "I just…  Told her you were the Delivery Boy!  I didn't _actually_ say _you beat Cell…."  Yamcha paused, trying in vain to gauge Gohan's reaction.  "Look, I'm sorry it was someone you know, but…  So a friend of yours knows you can fight.  It that really that much of a problem?"_

Yamcha heard Gohan try to steady his breathing for a moment.  Then his phone emitted a loud electronic distortion as Gohan violently hung up.

"Huh."  Yamcha stared at his phone for a moment before flipping it shut.  "I guess school really can be as stressful as Bulma used to say it was…"

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Back at the Son household…

Still humming to herself, ChiChi cheerfully looked through her shelf of herbs and spices.  Selecting two bottles, she walked back to the counter, making sure to step around Goten.  With his markers and coloring book stacked neatly on the table, the young boy was holding two of his best finished pages against the refrigerator, and trying to decide which one to put up.  His contemplation continued as ChiChi began spicing the night's roast.

Abruptly, Goten lowered the sheets.  "Mommy," he prompted, "I think someone's here…"

"Someone _is here," ChiChi corrected.  "Do you know who it is?"_

"No," the boy replied, frowning to himself.  "I think they're flyin' in a plane or something."

ChiChi paused for just a moment, then continued preparing the meal.  "Never mind them, then.  They're probably just passing through."

Goten frowned, and looked at his mother.  She ignored him, and after a moment he turned his attention back to his two drawings.  "Well, _I_ don't think they will," he grumbled quietly.

A moment later, someone knocked at the door.

"I told you someone was coming," said Goten as he reached for a refrigerator magnet.

"Never say 'I told you so,' Goten.  It's not polite," ChiChi scolded.  As she wiped her hands on a towel, the person knocked again.  "_Coming!"  ChiChi called.  As she strode out of the kitchen, she spared one glance towards her son.  "Now mind your manners, Goten."_

"Yes, Mommy," the boy automatically replied as he went to retrieve his markers.

Brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face, ChiChi straightened her apron and pulled open the front door.  "Yes?"

"Hi," greeted a young girl standing at the doorway.  "Are you Gohan's mom?"

"Yes," responded ChiChi as she looked the girl over.  "I am.  Who are you?"

"I'm Videl.  I go to school with Gohan.  Is he home?"

Instantly suspicious, ChiChi narrowed her eyes.  "Yes…"

"May I talk to him?"  Asked Videl, making a pointed effort to remain polite.

"About what?"

"We're doing a project together," Videl recited.

ChiChi's eyes narrowed further.  "For school?"

Videl blinked, momentarily loosing her rhythm.  "What else would we be doing?"

ChiChi stared at Videl for a moment, then shook her head.  "Come on in, then.  I'll go—"  ChiChi abruptly stopped.  Her suspicions renewed, she glared back at Videl.  "If you go to his school, _how'd you get all the way out __here?!"_

"I have a helicopter," Videl responded, pointing over her shoulder.

ChiChi saw the bright yellow vehicle parked on the far side of her lawn, and blinked.  "Oh."  She stared at the helicopter for a moment, and then her face suddenly contorted again.  "And my son _made you come all the way out __here to do __schoolwork?!"_

"It's a biology project," Videl replied, once again with a practiced crispness.  "We needed to take some notes on trees.  Gohan said you had lots of trees to look at out here, so I came over."

"Oh.  Yes, I suppose we do," ChiChi reluctantly conceded.  "Come in," she invited as she stepped back into the living room.  "I'll go get Gohan."

"Thank you," Videl replied stepping in after her.  Instantly, she caught the scent of the dinner that was being prepared in the kitchen.  "And we should be done with the assignment by dinner."

"That's good," ChiChi replied.  "But, Videl," she continued in an eerily sincere tone.  "If I find out that you and my son were doing something _other_ than schoolwork out there tonight, I will become very _upset.  Understand?"_

Videl gulped, unsure if she was really being threatened, and unsure how to react if she was.  "Uh, yes…"

"Good," responded ChiChi in a perfectly level tone.  "Oh, _Gohan…"_

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The forest below Mount Paozu…

A few moments later, Videl and a very sullen Gohan were wandering through the woods.

"So," Videl prompted.

"So…"  Gohan repeated.  A moment passed, as Gohan dejectedly stared at the ground in front of him.  "Videl," he began, finally looking up.  "You realize that if Mom finds out we aren't—"

"Got it covered, Gohan," cut off Videl.  Rolling her eyes, she absently waved an old notebook in the air.  "I did this project _last year.  All my original notes from it are right here…"_

"Oh."  Gohan's shoulders slumped, and he continued slowly walking forward.

Videl let the silence hang.  "So you were really that boy in the Cell Games…  Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Gohan weakly looked up.  "Would you have believed me?"

"You could have proven it," Videl quickly pointed out.

"Well, maybe I didn't want anyone to know," continued Gohan, slowly shaking his head.

Videl paused for a moment.  "Why not?  Do actually like the way Sharpener keeps harping on you?  Aren't you the least bit _proud_ of what you did?  Of what you can do?"

Gohan stopped walking, and turned to face Videl.  "Of what I can do?  No.  Not really."

Videl cocked her head back in confusion.

Absently, Gohan energized a ki flare around his fist.  Videl took an inadvertent step back, while Gohan just stared through the flare.  "Videl, I was _born able to do this.  I learned to walk, I learned to talk…  And by the time I was five, I could do this, I could fly, and I could do a whole list of other things as well.  I know people who have spent a lifetime in training, and never even did half of that.  I did it all without even realizing it wasn't normal."_

Videl shook her head to refocus her attention.  "Well, being a prodigy isn't really normal, but I'd still say it's something to be proud of."

"But that's not really it," Gohan countered, letting the flare die away.  "I'm not a prodigy.  I'm half-alien.  My father was from another world, and just because of that…"  Gohan let his shoulders slump as he looked over at Videl.  "I'm the strongest guy on the planet."

"Half alien?"  Videl repeated after a moment.

Gohan weakly nodded.  "It usually doesn't show, but I am.  Even if I had never been trained at all, I would still be stronger than all but a handful of people.  Just because of how I was born."

Videl stared at Gohan's face, trying to gauge his sincerity.  "Could you have taken _me_ out?"

"Easily."

Videl shifted uncomfortably.

"As it is, I've spent nearly half my life in constant training," Gohan wryly continued.  "I've fought, I've killed, and I've seen friends get killed.  Right now, I'm the single most powerful being on the planet.  Probably even the universe…"  The boy glanced over to Videl.  "You see why I didn't want to bring this up?"

"Yeah," Videl quietly conceded.  The pair started walking again before Videl continued.  "My dad didn't really beat Cell, did he?"  

"No…"  Gohan reluctantly admitted.

"And it was you that did…"

"Yeah…"

"And you're not proud of _that_?"  Videl asked sharply.  "Not even that you saved the world?"

Gohan sighed, looking up at the trees.  "Proud?  Yeah, a little.  But even through I beat Cell…  I still screwed up.  Because of how I handled that fight, my father died."

"Your father was Goku, wasn't he," Videl deduced.  "But didn't he get brought back to life?  Everyone else Cell killed did…"

"My father had already died and came back once.  It can't happen twice…"  Gohan shrugged, hoping Videl would just accept the justification.  She glanced over at him once, then returned her gaze to the trees they were passing.  "Even if he did come back," Gohan continued.  "He wouldn't have been the first person to die because I didn't do what I could have.  I guess that's why I'm not proud of my power, really.  I'm more powerful than anyone else…  But it's just because I am.  I didn't really earn it, and…  And I haven't used it as well as those who have."

The pair continued walking in silence.

After another moment, a grin began pulling on the corner of Gohan's mouth.  "Which is also why I like school, I guess.  For the first time in my life, I'm actually on even ground with everyone else."

"Huh!"  Videl nearly snorted.  "'Even ground?'  Gohan, you're smarter than most of the teachers we have."

Gohan chuckled under Videl's gaze.  "Maybe," he cheerfully conceded.  "But I _worked for that.  If Erasa put in as much time studying as I do…"_

Videl stopped and skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"She would be close!"  Finished Gohan, almost laughing.  "Maybe she isn't the best example, but you know what I mean."

Videl chuckled and rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, I know what you mean…"

With his mirth fading, Gohan stuck his hands in his pockets.  "But as far as fighting…  You could train for the rest of your life, Videl, and you still wouldn't be half as powerful as I am right now.  Just because you're a human and…  I'm not."

"But I could do _something_, right?  I could be stronger than anyone else…"

"Than most people, yeah," Gohan quickly admitted.

Videl darted in front of Gohan and stuck her finger in the taller boy's chest.  "Will you teach me, then?  Teach me how to do that glowing stuff and all the rest?"

Gohan backed off half a step.  "If I could get it past my mom…  She's pretty strict about what I do with my time."

"We could say we're studying together."

"I don't think she'd buy that…"  Gohan warned.

Videl thought for a second.  "We could say you're tutoring me.  That I'm paying you for it."

"I'm not sure she'd buy that, either."

"We could say we were dating."

Gohan and Videl instantly paused, and looked at each other.  The silence dragged on for a moment.

"That would be risky," Gohan finally admitted.  "And I'm not sure if we could convince her we actually like each other."

Videl thought for another moment.  "If she saw me giving you a kiss as I left today?"

"Then we would die," Gohan said immediately.  "Or we would be married by Friday."

The pair paused again.

"I'm not sure I'm quite ready for _that_," Videl finally concluded.

"It is a bit drastic," Gohan agreed.

"Why don't you talk to your mom about that tutoring," Videl advised.  "If your mom has been home-schooling you, she should believe you're smart enough for it."

"But she still may not like me tutoring a girl.  Maybe if I lied and said I was tutoring some other kid?"

Videl shook her head.  "Gohan, no offense, but one harsh gaze from a girl and you wilt.  There's no way you could sneak that past your mom."  Gohan opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it.  Videl sighed and went on.  "I guess if all else fails, we can have Erasa coach us on how to act like we're a couple.  It might take while, but…"

"We could say you're blackmailing me," Gohan suggested.  "It…  Seems plausible.  Or we could tell the truth."

Videl rolled her eyes.  "Why don't we just try the tutoring angle for now, huh?  But you will train me," said Videl as looked Gohan in the eyes, "right?"

The boy half-smiled to himself.  "Yeah, once we find an excuse, I'll help you train…"

"Great!"  Proclaimed Videl, rubbing her hands together with glee.  "But while we're working on your mom, I need your help with one other thing."

Gohan cocked his head to the side, curious.  "What?"

"Gohan, I know you're the Gold Fighter.  But that Saiyaman nut is still running around my city.  Now, with your help…"  Videl balled her fist and slammed it into her palm.  "I'm going to unmask that looser, once and for all!"

Gohan stared blankly at Videl, trying to keep his jaw from falling open.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continued…


	3. Flyin' High Again

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, predawn, outside a small town in the great northern forests…

With the stars shining down through a clear night sky, Tien curiously examined the watch he was holding.  "And the costume really comes out of this little thing?"

"It's like a capsule," Gohan nervously clarified.  It had taken him hours, plus a trip to Dende's Lookout, to locate Tien and Chouzu, and the search had left him on edge.  Not only was he conspiring to fool Videl—again—but he was outside after hours without his mother's permission, he had already blown his timetable for getting his homework done, and he was loosing valuable sleeping time in what was turning out to be a very stressful week.  "You put it on, hit the button, and the costume will appear around you."

Tien looked over at the younger boy.  "At my size?"

"It should," answered Gohan, to stressed too care about using the wrong tense in his answer.  "Now, Videl is planning to set the trap on Saturday, so—"

"Gohan," Tien interrupted, with a wry grin on his face.  "I know.  I heard you the first two times."  The three-eyed fighter chuckled at Gohan's haggard reaction.  "I'll be there, Gohan.  Now you go home.  You look like you could use some sleep.  _Really…"_

Gohan looked at Tien for a moment, then shook his head quickly.  "Sleep," he muttered.  "Why bother?  By the time I get back, I'll have less than two hours before I wake up, and it'll take me at least fifteen minutes to calm down enough to…"  Seemly unaware that he was thinking out loud, Gohan took off and flew into the horizon.

Tien chuckled as he watched the boy go.

"I hope he gets through this," Chouzu commented.

"Oh, I'm sure he will.  At his age, things always seem more dire than they really are…"  Still chuckling, Tien cheerfully affixed the watch over one of his gauntlets.  "So Gohan became a super hero.  Who would have thought it?"

Chouzu blinked, and stared at Tien for a moment.  "What does that mean, Tien?  Su-per hero?"

"You don't know?"  Balked Tien, honestly startled.  But after a moment, he shook his head.  "Right, you grew up as a prince.  You never got exposed to any 'low' culture…"

"Huh?"

"Comics, Chouzu.  Super heroes are from comics.  I had a few of 'em back before I became Master Crane's student.  Including a couple of dog-earned four-color ones…"  Tien trailed off for a moment at the memory.

"So…  What are they?"  Asked Chouzu.

Tien rolled all three of his eyes.  "They are people with super powers, Chouzu.  They fly, or have a magic ring, or just fight really well, and they protect people from evil."

"Kind of like us?"

"Eh, kind of," conceded Tien.  "They usually have a hometown where they fight off minor bad guys as well as well as the big world threatening villains.  And they dress differently.  Less practical, but more iconic looking.  Super heroes are like roll models; people for everyone in their city to look up at and admire."  Tien snapped his fingers.  "Take one of us, and then exaggerate one power or aspect of our personality, until that one aspect defines everything we are.  _That_ is a super hero."

Chouzu blinked.  "Okay, but…  Iconic looking?"

Walking up to the nearby lakeshore, Tien smiled to himself.  "Oh yeah.  They dress in bright colors, skin-tight fabric, usually a cape, and they always—_always—have a big emblem on their chest.  So people know exactly who they are."  Tien chuckled to himself.  "And if Gohan is calling himself 'Saiyaman,' I think I've got a pretty good idea of what he looks like…"  Tien paused and smiled at Chouzu's curious expression.  "Trust me.  It'll be a blue suit, with red trim and a red cape…  And an _awesome_ emblem of an S inscribed in a diamond…"  Tien took a moment to examine the watch.  "Heh, _Shazam_," he joked as he pressed the appropriate button._

A holographic distortion obscured Tien for just a moment before the Saiyaman costume solidified around him.  Upon seeing his reflection in the lake, Tien abruptly frowned.  He immediately took off the helmet, and looked at it in a type of horrified fascination.  Dropping it, he looked down at his chest, and pulled apart the sides of his green vest.

"Well," casually observed Chouzu.  "You were right about the cape."

"Where's the S?!"  Tien angrily demanded.  "I'm supposed to be wearing a _giant golden S!"_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday, in the market plaza of Satan City…

Sitting on a street bench and feigning reading a novel, Gohan glanced anxiously around the street.  He was dressed in some beat up street clothes he had borrowed from Sharpener, with dark sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap covering his spiky blond hair.  Across the plaza, Videl was causally leaning against a lamp pole.  Not for the first time, Gohan took a deep breath and hoped his scheme would work.

Glancing up again a moment later, he saw a young man in a navy Italian suit and tinted sunglasses strolling casually through the plaza.

"Videl," Gohan whined to himself.  "Did you really have to bring Sharpener in on this?  He didn't have to know about me…"

The man stopped in the center of the plaza and looked around.  Finding who he was looking for, he raised his arm and snapped his fingers a few times.  Following the man's gaze, Gohan spotted a young woman carrying a pair of violin cases and wearing a miniskirt/suit combo that perfectly matched Sharpener's.  Upon seeing the signal, the woman hurried over to join the man.

Breaking character, Gohan buried his face in his hands.  "…And did you have to tell him in front of Erasa?"  

Gohan only looked up again when he heard the twin clicks of a couple of Tommy Guns being loaded.  Smiling like a man who was about to have the time of his life, Sharpener raised his gun to the sky and squeezed the trigger.  Gohan knew the gun was firing blanks, but the shots sounded all too real to everyone else.  Instantly, the mood of the plaza changed as everyone either threw themselves to the ground or ran for cover.

"Don't anybody move!"  Yelled out Erasa, in a voice more threatening than Gohan would have given her credit for.  Holding her own gun in classic mobster style, she fired a few blanks above the heads of a nearby group of teenagers.  Ceasing fire, she lowered her gun and swept her aim across the plaza.  "Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt…"

Fighting back a laugh and still holding his gun in one hand, Sharpener began casually walking forward.  "Well, will yah look at what we'se got here?"  Asked Sharpener, rolling his A's.  "A bunch a' pedestrian _pie_-knockahs thinkin' they got's the rights tah this here plah-za…  What are yah, a bunch a' lunatics?  Ahv'ybody knows this street's is a part a' the Mahmalukes' territory.  Ain't that right Bird?"

Following Sharpener a step behind, and keeping her gun leveled at all times, Erasa responded in the same voice she had used earlier.  "That's right Joey…"

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Sharpener wagged his head a little.  "That's right.  Ahv'ybody…"  Coming up to a park cop, who was backing away just like everyone else was, Sharpener lowered his gun and mockingly brushed the barrel of it against the man's collar.  "Ahcept for them _knockahs_ down in City Hall.  Seems they decided not to pay the priv'lage fees that they so rightfully owe us.  And that…  Well that just don't sit too well with me and the boys…

"So lemme tell yah how it's gonnah be!"  Sharpener said, abruptly turning about.  "The Mahmalukes is gonnah _get_ they's moneah, one way or anathah!  So—"  Sharpener cut himself off as a shadow passed over him.

Gohan eyed the sky for a moment.  "Thank you," he mouthed.  Glancing to the side, caught Videl's gaze and saw her motion for him to get ready.

Still playing their parts, Sharpener and Erasa backed up against each other.  "Ah'right, yah knockah…"  Sharpener tried to warn as he looked frantically about.  "Wha'da yah—"

"Not 'what?'"  Cut off an approaching voice.  A cheer erupted from the people as familiar looking hero in a green, black and red costume swept through the Plaza.  "'Who?'  And the answer is…"

"Now, Gohan!"  Yelled Videl as she sprinted forward.

Now standing on the ground, Saiyaman struck a heroic pose.  "The Great—"

Gohan tossed off his cap and prepared to sprint past Videl.

Then the Great Saiyaman was knocked flat on his face.

"Where do you get off calling yourself 'great?'"  Angrily demanded Tien, standing with arms crossed and glaring at the fallen hero.

Videl skid to a stop, and most everyone else in the park gasped in astonishment.  Gohan, probably the most surprised of all, just stood where he was and stared.

"Aw, Da—aad…"  Whined Saiyaman, in a voice very different from the one he had been using before.

"Don't you 'Dad' me!"  Continued Tien, grabbing Saiyaman by his cape and pulling him to his feet.  "What were you thinking, boy?  Is this what I taught you to do with your life?  Is this _anything_ like what I taught you?!"  Tien cuffed the back of Saiyaman's head, knocking his helmet clean off.

Beneath the helmet, Saiyaman had a face that looked almost exactly like Tien's, but with a messy crop of black hair falling in front of his face.  

Gohan's eye twitched.

Embarrassed, Saiyaman quickly picked his helmet back up.  "This is what you taught me, Dad.  You taught me to be a hero!"

"Yeah, I taught you to be a hero," Tien yelled back.  "But this isn't being a hero!  This…"  Tien grabbed Saiyaman's vest, dragging the man forward.  "Is being a clown!  You don't even have an emblem!  How do you call yourself a hero without having an emblem?"

"But Dad, I—_Ow_!"

Holding his 'son' by the ear, Tien started pulling Saiyaman across the plaza.  "Don't mouth off, kid.  If you can't be a super hero on your own, we're going to sidekick you off to someone who can."

"Dad, no—"

Tien tossed Saiyaman into the air.  "Go home!  I'll talk to you there."  Pouting, Saiyaman rubbed his ear and sullenly flew away.  With him leaving, Tien turned on the people of the plaza.  "And as for you…  _Shame_ on you for encouraging him!  You should have all known better…"  Tien shook his head in disgust, and took to the air.

Gohan stared mutely at the disappearing fliers.

"That was Tien…"  Said Videl as she walked up to Gohan.  "I recognize him from the old tournament photos.  But I didn't know he had a son…"  She turned to Gohan.  "Did you know he had a kid?"

Blinking away the worst of his confusion, Gohan managed to shake his head.

Videl shrugged.  "Huh.  Well, I guess that settles _everything_ about Saiyaman.  We know who he is and it doesn't look like he's coming ba—"

"_Videl_!"  Cried Sharpener, in a very muffled voice.  "Gohan, Videl, help!"

Startled, Videl turned to face Sharpener, and saw him face down in the dirt, with two police officers trying to restrain him, and a third fumbling for his nightstick.  Erasa was close by, already in handcuffs and pressed against a light pole by a fourth cop.

"…Mean anything by it, really!"  Pleaded Erasa, back in her usual tone.

"Aw, no…"  Grumbled Videl.  "Hey stop that!"  She yelled as she sprinted to the scene.  "The whole thing was a set up, there's no need to—_Hey, I said stop that_!"

Gohan rubbed his head, too dazed to do anything to help his friends. 

As activity in the plaza slowly returned to normal, a well-built man wearing a bandanna walked passed Gohan.  "You owe me for this, Gohan," he informed, in a voice identical to Tien's.  "You owe me _big_."

"Uh, sure," stuttered Gohan.  "But when did you—"

"That was me in wig!"  Interrupted a similarly built man with a cowboy hat.  "I used that old Twelve-Eyes technique.  There's no way _I_'d show myself in public in a costume like that."  As he passed, he slapped a copy of JLA/Avengers into Gohan's hands.  "So if you want to pay me back, you can start by _firing_ your tailor…"

"…Oh.  Okay…"  Still somewhat dazed, Gohan started at the departing duo.  "Thanks again, uh, Tien..."

"Gohan, stop gaping and get over here and help me explain this!"  Yelled Videl, breaking Gohan's stupor.

Shaking his head and dismissing the whole debacle, the young boy stuffed his new comic in his back pocket and sprinted over to coconspirators.

--------------------------------------------------

End.


End file.
